The Kiss of Madraykin
by The Drowess Nione Ithiliel
Summary: Next Chapter Preview: Tsuzuki and Hisoka travel to India to interrogate Durjaya while Watari searches for information on the enigmatic woman Kinoko witnessed in the hotel.
1. Prologue

_How deep does she weep in your well of unkeep?_

_The kiss of Madraykin will keep you from sleep_

"Muraki is WHAT?!"

"_Dead_," Chief Konoe repeated. "His corpse was found by two resident nurses just outside the hospital he worked at in Tokyo. We believe that whoever murdered him is also responsible for the complete disappearance of his soul, along with every trace of his spiritual energy."

"Don't you dare tell me what I think you're going to," Tsuzuki snarled, his voice low and burning with rage. His fists clenched all the tighter as he venomously hissed, "Wherever his soul is now, it can rot there."

Taking a deep breath, the Chief braced himself, dreading the words he next spoke, "I don't like it any more than you do, Tsuzuki, but it's our job to retrieve him."

"I won't take this case," came the fierce reply, violet eyes suddenly very capable of combusting anyone who met their gaze. Konoe sighed heavily; these were measures he'd never wanted to take, but orders from above were orders, and the Lord of Hell had been strangely specific...

"Enma-Daioh suspected you might react that way... Which is why he also said that if you _don't_ take this case, your shinigami status will be revoked. Please; we both know what the consequences will be if that happens... How do you think that would affect Kurosaki-kun?"

'Bastard,' the brunette seethed; he was _beyond_ furious that Kachou would drag Hisoka into this. "How do we know this isn't just another way of luring us to him?"

Konoe paled sickly at his question, almost shoving the case folder into the shinigami's hands, gagging as he advised, "Take a look at the crime scene photos."

Reality slammed into Tsuzuki with a sledgehammer's force, nausea rolling over him in vicious waves; there was no way Muraki had lived through _this_. The doctor's nude corpse had been horribly mutilated, what remained of his flesh covered with scars and wounds that had never healed, green and yellow pus still oozing from the jagged, torn openings. His torso had been cut precisely down the middle, ribcages ripped wide open to expose the contents of the chest and abdominal cavities. Parts of his large intestine had been pulled out to entwine loops forming a figure eight around his upper and lower halves, meeting in the middle where they remained connected to the body. There was severe agitation to his thighs and backside, both covered in feces; he had been forced to wallow in his own filth. Both his heart and his genitalia were missing, his eyes wide and mouth agape, forever frozen in a look of unparallelled terror. In the middle of his forehead, a symbol resembling the Roman character "H" had been burned, most likely with a sautering iron, into now blistered, peeling skin.

In another photograph, a taunting message scripted just beside the emergency room entrance had been painted from an abundant supply of freshly-spilled blood, reading,

"My Dearest Swine,

You and Lady Karma both were _really_ slow to pick up on this guy, so I did the two of you a favor not only by nabbing him myself, but also by making up for lost time. As always, better luck next go round!

Your friend,

Twisted Justice

P.S. The score is now 163-0: and those are only the ones you _know_ about!"

Whoever this psycho was, he made every violent case Tsuzuki had ever viewed seem little more than child's play, this belief further supported when the boss shakily informed him, "The coroner's report also stated that the victim was sodomized with a number of various objects, and..." Konoe's skin was clammy and pale now, and he was barely resisting the urge to empty his lurching stomach with his next statement, "his genitals had been crammed down his throat premortem, causing him to drown in his own vomit." Taking a seat to regain his composure, he continued, "He's one of many victims of a serial killer who preys on the unpunished guilty; those that _he_ feels have not met adequate justice."

"Well, I can't say I blame him. In fact," Tsuzuki responded coldly, "I'd say Muraki deserved this sort of death." Despite the horrific manner of the doctor's demise, the violet-eyed shinigami found himself unable to feel any form of compassion towards the madman. Considering the pain those cruel albino hands had inflicted on so many innocents, the slow and agonizing death they had submitted his beloved Hisoka to after ruthlessly stealing the boy's purity, Tsuzuki had a mind to congratulate Muraki's killer on a job well done.

The Chief's wrinkled eyes were brimming in a rare display of pity towards his enraged employee; for the normally cheerful, humanitarian Tsuzuki to be so utterly consumed by this much unbridled hatred towards any one person... it almost led him to believe that the man would have gladly sold his soul to whatever devil necessary if it meant he could have brought about the mad doctor's brutal end himself. "Listen," he sighed, "we all know how much you despise Muraki, but it has to be done. I expect you - _and_ Kurosaki - to head out to the crime scene after the briefing; if we sent you alone, there's no telling what would happen. We need him to keep you in line."

Not a word more was spoken as the furious shinigami stormed out of Konoe-kachou's office to deliver the ill-fated news to his waiting partner.

"Muraki has something to do with it, doesn't he," Hisoka guardedly inquired; as grand an effort as his partner was making to shield himself, the amount of rage emanating from the man had him afraid to do so much as _mention_ their mutual enemy.

"Muraki _is_ the case," Tsuzuki growled rabidly, slamming the folder onto his desk, taking a seat on the couch as opposed to his office chair, distancing Hisoka from him. The last thing he wanted was for his anger to harm the boy through empathy, and if he himself was trembling from the force of it, he knew the effect on the teen would be devastating. "I don't see why we're even bothering with _his_ soul; let him stay wherever the hell he is!"

Hisoka found himself clueless as to how to react. After all, wasn't vengeance the reason he was still attached to his mortal life? What would happen now that that reason was gone?

Would this be his last case?

It had taken him until his afterlife to find someone who loved and accepted him; now that he had Tsuzuki, he was faced with the possibility of being torn away from him...

No. He had a new reason to linger now; had he not just been robbed of the vengeance he'd been pursuing for so long? Yes, that was perfectly legitimate, and now he prayed that Enma-Daioh would see it that way too...

On the plus side, if Muraki's soul truly was missing, wouldn't that mean... He grabbed the folder off of the elder shinigami's desk; he _had_ to be sure. Flipping through the gruesome crime scene photos, he flinched in fear as memories of his own death resurfaced, eyes shutting tightly as he braced himself for the seering pain his flared curse marks always brought--

They never appeared. Hisoka's eyes flashed open again as his hopes were realized: he was free of the doctor's curse.

"A-Asato! ASATO!!" The youth's voice was frantic as he called out to his lover. "Doushita," came the brunette's scared reply as he rushed to the boy's side, frightened amethyst spheres locking with an astonished emerald gaze. "The markings are gone," he hushedly revealed, tears of joy flowing down his porcelain face, "they're finally gone..."

Both men's hearts soared as they held to each other, each certain that Hisoka's nightmares would soon be no more than a distant memory. What they couldn't have known was that a new series of nightmares had only just begun.

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AN: Here it is, the prologue; short, I know, but after this is not only where it will start getting lengthy, but also very weird (you have been warned!!)


	2. Undercover

They sat on cheap, metal fold-up chairs in the darkened room as the projector began to play slides of the Muraki case. "As you can see," Watari began, "our er... victim has been savagely tortured and murdered. You have to give the killer some points for originality with his display of the body--"

"WATARI!"

"Ahem; sorry, Chief... anyway, the 'figure eight' created by the intestines was a representation of what is often called 'the Witch's knot,' symbolizing eternity and unification." A close-up of the doctor's forehead appeared as the scientist continued, "The character seen here is a Norse rune called 'hagalaz,' which can have several interpretations in readings; the one that most likely applies here is a 'karmic lesson,' although 'destruction' seems rather apt as well..."

Many heads, including Hisoka's, turned aside in disgust as the next slide showed Muraki's open chest cavity; this was the same body that had hovered over his own, pinning him down underneath a sakura tree, now with the added displeasure of being viciously mangled--

The empath's memories were mercifully interrupted when Tsuzuki, noting his unease, entwined their fingers in a comforting gesture, offering him a warm smile that couldn't be seen, but was very much felt and appreciated. The boy lightly gripped his partner's hand, silently showing his gratitude while Watari informed, "The removal of the heart would at first seem metaphorical in nature. However, it's reoccurance in _all_ of the 'Twisted Justice' serial homicides also links it to an ancient demonic custom that is used not only to gain power, but to claim souls. If we _are_ dealing with a non-human entity, it's likely he's been around for quite a while, and is possibly just as powerful as he is old."

'That would make sense,' Tsuzuki mused, 'especially since he disposed of someone like Muraki so easily...' He passed a glance towards Kinoko, who was all but gawking at the pictures in a state of disbelief and... _recognition_?? "Um... hey, 'Taka," the newbie started, the amber-eyed shinigami pausing for a brief moment before asking, "Yeah? What's up, Ayu?"

"I-I think," the kid stammered, "...I'm pretty sure that's Doc."

All eyes turned on him at this revelation; no one had as much as mentioned the man's name to him, so there was no way he could have known Muraki was a doctor. Watari's voice cracked with shock as he half-shouted, "You _knew_ him?!"

"Not very well," Ayumu confessed, "but some buddies of mine used to get dope from him and another guy who calls himself 'Durjaya.' He was supposed to show up with two kilos of opium about a week before I died; we thought he stood us up." His gaze lowered to the floor as he remarked, "Guess that wasn't the case, huh?"

"No, I... guess not..." The stunned scientist inquired further, somewhat incredulously, "Listen, you're absolutely _sure_ that's him? One hundred percent?"

"Yeah," his new partner replied, "his right eye... when he used to show up at my dealer's place, all dressed in white with that creepy eye staring at me, it reminded me of a 'Doctor Death' movie I watched once; that was half the reason we called him 'Doc.' Last time I saw him was a couple months before he was supposed to deliver the goods, but I'm pretty sure he still went to Fuzen's a few times afterwards."

An unsettling silence hung thick in the air; all this time he'd been right under their noses, hardly even bothering to hide, and they'd completely overlooked him.

"Kinoko-san," the Chief spoke up, "Where can we find Fuzen? We'll need to speak to him; if he wasn't the last person to see the victim alive, he might know who was."

"I'd better go talk to him myself," Ayumu suggested. "He won't spill to strangers, especially if he thinks you're cops."

Unable to argue with a valid point and not wanting to lose a potentially valuable witness, Konoe sighed, "Very well, but I want Tsuzuki and Kurosaki to go with you just in case."

"'Kay," came the nonchalant response. Motioning towards the two shinigami in the back, he jubilantly called, "Gentlemen, let's get moving! We gotta dress you guys up for the part!" Without another word, he hurriedly ushered the two men out the door.

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They'd been lead to a head shop / clothing store called, "In'you" in the Harajuku area of Tokyo, their every move followed by the apathetic stares of the swarms of gothic youth overrunning the place. "Don't worry," Ayumu reassured happily, "The owner and I are good pals; he even gives me a 40 discount every time I shop there! Of course," he nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head, "the fact that I smoked him out every time I had weed might have something to do with that..."

It was a small, out-of-the-way establishment, the once-white exterior having faded to a dingy shade of yellow over the years, the brick-red shingles in none-too-good of shape. Hisoka expected to walk into something resembling the pawn shops he'd seen in movies: run-down and filthy with a grubby, shady slimeball glaring suspiciously at them from behind a netted metal window.

He was blown away by what he _did_ see.

What looked like a giant, sun-shaped lava lamp hung from the bold orange ceiling, casting wavering rays of light on walls covered in a psychedelic rainbow design. A mellow, but loud door bell produced a man from behind a veil of green wooden beads; far unlike what the empath had imagined, the owner grew his waist-long mahogany hair in unruly dredlocks, a thick goatee covering his chin, sporting baggy camouflage pants and a matching t-shirt. Hazel eyes lit up at the sight of his old friend, a broad, delighted smile forming as he cried, "Ayumu!!"

Kinoko responded with a grin of his own, "How's it going, Hiroshi?"

"Holy fuck, man! It's been, like, forever!" He rushed over to the new shinigami, slapping him playfully on the shoulder as he light-heartedly scolded, "Two weeks and not so much as a phone call to your best buddy? Had me worried, you little shit!"

"Ah, come on, dude," the brown-eyed man returned, "things have been a little crazy as of late. You know how that goes."

"Sure as hell do. You hear about how Fukushima turned C.I.?"

"No way!!! Fukushima??!"

Tsuzuki and Hisoka stared dumbfoundedly as the men continued their conversation, neither being well-versed in stoner jargon. "I'm... going to start looking at clothes..." the blonde finally managed, starting towards the Young Adult section. His lover quickly followed, shouting merrily, "Ooooh, I wanna help!"

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"Why does everything here have to be so damn loose-fitting?!" The boy was quickly becoming frustrated with his options; he'd finally found a pair of pants that fit perfectly around his waist, only to discover that his hips were the only place on his body where they weren't twice his size.

His partner laughed heartily at the scene before him, linking his arms around the teen's shoulders, resting his chin in the nape of the slender neck, whispering erotically, "They have their advantages," before placing a firm kiss on the tingling skin. Hisoka spun around, breaking free from the brunette's hold, his unconvincing glare lightly glazed with want. Tsuzuki beamed victoriously; 'Soka-chan was so easy to excite...

After an hour of searching and shoving a certain perverted baka out of his dressing room, the blonde finally settled on the black chain-adorned pants he'd found before, paired with a huge (for him, anyway) tee of the same color that stated in red scraggly letters, "I love poetry, long walks on the beach, and poking dead things with a stick." His partner, on the other hand, had chosen navy-blue multi-pocketed slacks matched by a long, sky-colored top with a white peace sign in the middle. The smaller shinigami hadn't felt the need for a change of shoes, while Tsuzuki had opted for a switch to open-toed dark purple sandals.

"So," Kinoko asked, "are we all set up?"

The two men nodded, more than ready to get this ordeal over with; they'd had other plans as to how to spend their evening.

"Okay, buddy, what're we lookin' at price-wise," the pothead inquired of Hiroshi, who stood morosely nearby.

"Nothing," was the hippie's reply. "This one's on me."

"WHAT?!" For a moment, Hisoka was certain the stoner was going to try literally slapping some sense into the man.

"You can't _afford_ to do that, fucktard!!"

"I can," Hiroshi responded with a sad smile, "for an old friend."

Their gazes lingered on each other for a small eternity as the shinigami trio headed towards the door. Stormy hazel eyes tried and failed miserably to hide their owner's sorrow as he watched Ayumu leave. "Like I said before," he called in barely-disguised anguish, "don't be a stranger." A silent nod was the only answer he received as the store was once more empty.

_**Flashback**_

Supposing that his fellow angels of death had commenced their search for a change of apparel, Ayumu fell into his old routine, taking Hiroshi through the veil of beads to smoke a bowl in the back room. They plopped into their respective chairs, the hippie preferring his lavender shag recliner whilst his childhood pal took the lime-green plush seat and pulled out Hina, his vibrant yellow-orange glass pipe (yes, many potheads _do_ name their smoking devices). Packing in as much as he could, Kinoko handed the piece to the mahogany-haired man, as he always did, to offer him the green hit.

Hiroshi grinned warmly, gladly receiving the gift as he lit up, inhaling deeply, clearing the chamber before returning it. When the smoke became too much to handle, he finally exhaled, doing all he could not to cough; that kid _always_ got the good shit.

"So," he began, "what kinda crazy things have been keepin' you away?"

"Work," Ayumu informed, "I got a job now."

"Sweet deal! About damn time, too," the hippie congratulated, slapping him on the back, earning a series of harsh coughs. "Oh-- sorry, dude!"

His earthen-eyed friend merely shrugged, chuckling through ragged breaths as thick smoke poured out of his mouth and nose, letting him know that he wasn't upset. Hiroshi's demeanor suddenly turned melancholy after taking his hit, turning to look at Kinoko as he said quietly, "I heard a funny rumor at about that time... two weeks ago..."

The pot fiend returned his stare, inquiring, "Yeah? What's that?"

"I heard you died."

The raven-haired man nearly dropped the pipe in his hands, shakily fumbling with the lighter as he rapidly shifted his gaze away. After his turn had passed, he passed the piece back to his suddenly silent friend, his own voice barely audible as he answered, "I'm not gonna lie to you... I _did_ die."

In an effort to lighten the mood, Hiroshi teased, "But not even death could keep you from ganja, huh?" Ayumu might have even laughed a little if not for the pain dripping from every word like the tears now creating temporary dark stains in the bright red carpet; stains that looked eerily like blood.

"Listen... I need to go. We're here to look into an unnatural death." He nearly stumbled back down as he rose to stand, caught unaware in a tight embrace as the older man sobbed brokenly into his shoulder. "Just," he choked, "don't be a stranger, okay? You're all I've got... that I've _ever_ had..." Kinoko held closer to the only true friend he'd ever known, streams of his own streaking his tan cheeks. "Yakusoku," was his whispered reply, "yakusoku..."

_**End Flashback**_

"Kinoko-san," Hisoka asked, "are you all right?"

Ayumu forced a small smile as he said, "No, but don't worry about it. I'll be fine in due time. For now, let's get over to Fuzen's."

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AN: Phew! Here it is! The next chapter will contain yaoi!


	3. To Toke, or Not to Toke?

Their next stop was a seedy complex a few miles west of Sakurajima, back in Kinoko's home region of Kagoshima. Dulled light-blue paint chipped from immense cracks in powdery stone walls exposed to time, weather, and unruly tenants. The gray shingles on the shallow roof were peeling apart from themselves in thin, brittle layers, and rusting mystery-metal stairs covered in cheap, flaking black paint creaked loudly with every step, both veteran shinigami wincing as Ayumu bounded boldly upwards, calling down to them, "I know how it looks, but they'll hold up. Just don't touch the guardrails; people have literally gotten lead poisoning from them," he cautioned, pointing to strips of iron-based _something_ on their right. Rugged holes dotted the bars, which were in even poorer condition than the stairs, both men being especially careful to avoid them as they gingerly ascended. The raven-haired man's pace only seemed to have quickened, as he shouted from the third floor, "Trust me, guys; the sooner you get this out of the way, the better." Deciding to take a chance by heeding the advice of a druggie, they rapidly followed his lead.

This risk appeared to have paid off; they'd reached the fifth floor in one piece, neither having crashed through any of the rotting slabs, and without having to endure the ear-shredding racket their movements produced any longer than necessary. "Kinoko-san," Tsuzuki whispered, beckoning him closer with a speedy hand motion. "What's up," the kid inquired, leaning his left ear towards the brunette.

"How will Fuzen react to seeing you? You're dead," the amethyst-eyed shinigami reminded. Ayumu sniggered in response.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about that; crazy bastard's _always_ high on something. Considering his fondness for weird chemicals nowadays, it probably hasn't even sunk in yet, and that's only if he remembers anyone telling him. Don't forget," he added, "as soon as that door opens, I'm 'Ayu.'"

The partners nodded in a synchronized manner, and the pothead firmly rapped his knuckles against the off-white steel door to the rhythm, "rat-tat-ta tat-tat, tat-tat." As soon as the portal groaned open, nauseating fumes threatened to overwhelm their stomachs, especially Hisoka's, and Kinoko quickly rasped, "See what I mean?"

Hair this shade of red could only have come from a bottle, sharply contrasting ice-blue eyes, glassy and bloodshot, but complimenting a chestnut complexion. Fuzen stood maybe two inches beneath Tsuzuki's height, clothed in black basketball shorts and a white tee decorated with the outline of a giant marijuana leaf, the bright green words in the middle reading, "got weed?" His mouth was agape in a sloppy grin, further elongating his thin face as his low baritone voice greeted, "Whassup, Ayu?"

Hands slapped together and fists met as Ayumu adorned a lopsided smile of his own, replying, "How's it hangin', bro?"

"Same shit, different day."

"I hear ya."

Waving the three men in, Fuzen stumbled through the hallway, flailing his arms about clumsily in an attempt to keep a sense of balance. Hisoka's verdant eyes bulged with shock, nose crinkling in disgust as they made their way towards the living room, lead by the light of the blue television screen; this place put _Tsuzuki's_ house to shame.

Beer bottles filled with various trash, thick layers of cigarette butts lining the bottoms of each one, lay strewn across the worn, stained carpet; _what_ it was stained with was anyone's guess, as was the case with the many burn marks it held as well. The stench emitting from molding pizza boxes mingled with that of rotting Chinese takeout, causing the boy to place a hand on his companion's shoulder, leaning on him for support as his stomach churned angrily, and he didn't even _want_ to know what the source of the ungodly odour drifting in from the kitchen was...

One look at his blonde lover told Tsuzuki how close the teen was to losing what little food he'd ingested on their way to this dump. Snaking an arm around his partner's waist, the taller man lead the youth towards the battered plaid couch, plopping down beside him. A relieved sigh escaped him when he noted that Hisoka's face had regained some of its color upon taking a seat.

His eyes then fell on Kinoko, who sat cross-leggedly on a tired blue recliner while Fuzen, about two feet away from his friend, had claimed an enormous dirt-brown bean bag in the corner of the filthy room, all the furniture together forming an almost-L shape.

"What brings you all the way out here," the red-head asked dazedly. "Didn't I just sell you a quarter?"

"Yeah," his client answered, "we were actually wondering if you'd heard from Durjie lately; we need a few ounces of dope."

"Huh?" Fuzen's face contorted in confusion. "I thought you weren't into man-made stuff..."

_Shit_. He needed a cover story, and _fast_. 'Him,' a quiet voice advised as he quickly glanced at the pair to his right. 'The boy; it's for _him_.'

"It's for the kid." The words spilled out of his mouth before he could control them. "He has these uh, episodes that leave him in a lot of pain--"

"Ahh, so he needs some heavy-duty painkillers," the fried one said with an understanding smirk.

Hisoka nodded and, much to the surprise of his coworkers, extended his forearm for the wasted man to see. 'The curse may be gone, but scars never completely fade...' the boy noted morosely.

"Oh my God..." For once, the wheels seemed to be turning in his drug-altered mind as the blue-eyed dealer gasped in dumbstruck awe.

"Some maniac turned me into his living canvas one night," the blonde bitterly revealed, quickly returning his limb to fold against his chest with its twin.

"No fucking shit! Listen, I'm gonna try and get ahold of Durjie, so feel free to..." Fuzen's shoulders shrugged as he failed to find whatever words he'd been looking for, instead chuckling, "...you know, whatever!" Rising awkwardly, he floundered into the kitchen, making painful contact with the yellowing walls more than once along the way.

Ayumu faced Hisoka, horrified, rushing apologetically, "Look, dude, I didn't know -- something just told me--"

"Whatever," the teen cut him off. "You needed a reason, and I gave you one. That's all that matters right now."

A grateful smile graced Kinoko's visage as he mused, 'He's not nearly as cold and callous as he tries to make himself appear...'

Emerald spheres slid shut in consideration; he'd heard the thought, but he chose to ignore it, instead inquiring, "Why haven't you asked him about Muraki yet?"

"I can't just start interrogating him as soon as I get here; it'd make him suspicious," the pothead explained. "Besides, I want to get ahold of Durjaya too. He was in it with Doc, remember? He'll probably know who saw him last if Fuzen doesn't."

The conversation stopped there as said dope fiend re-entered the room, flopping gracelessly onto the beanbag with a snarl of frustration. "Son of a bitch."

"What's up," the stoner questioned, "Is he not pickin' up the phone?"

"Not that," Fuzen growled, "He's in fuckin' _India_ for some stupid festival!!" Sighing, he commented, "I need a beer..."

Opening a black refrigerator that no one had noticed in the darkness until that moment, he removed a can of Sapporo beer and popped the tab, downing half its contents in one swig.

Tsuzuki was practically drooling, mouth hanging open stupidly as he ogled the alcohol, completely mesmerized. He could drink a _little_ on a case, couldn't he? It surely wouldn't do any harm...

"_You idiot_!!"

Tsuzuki's face suddenly met the floor as Hisoka's fist slammed into the back of his skull, earning a loud, cackling laugh from the booze's owner, who snortled, "Jeezus, if you wanted some, you should've just asked!" The red-haired man tossed him a can when the violet-eyed shinigami reclaimed his spot on the couch, his whimpers fading upon receiving the gift. Donning his most sincere, pleading puppy-face, complete with rivers of tears, he fixed his gaze on his partner, whining pitifully.

The youth's eyebrows twitched in irritation; why did that git have to give him a beer?! Tsuzuki was totally uninhibited when he drank... uninhibited, and _very_ frisky. The boy blushed, recalling the _last_ time his lover had been intoxicated... not that he hadn't enjoyed it...

"Fine," Hisoka grumbled, his cheeks reddening as the idiot suffocated him in a grateful hug, singing, "Thank you!!"

"Well," the dealer reasoned, "since I can't get anything from Durjie right now, I know something else that'll get rid of the pain for a bit."

Piercing peridot orbs narrowed as the fiend lifted an object into his hands, the illumination of the light from the television revealing it to be a large, zig-zag shaped glass pipe with murky water lingering in the bottom. The boy was fairly certain he knew where this was going, and wanted no part of it. Ayumu, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted.

"Sweeeeet!" Muddy-brown eyes sparkled with excitement as Kinoko rejoiced, "Nothing beats a bong!"

Reaching into his pocket, Fuzen retrieved a crumpled plastic sandwich bag filled with pungent green buds, confirming Hisoka's theories. 'No,' he mentally refused, 'no way in the Hells...'

Packing a few of the buds into an orifice remotely resembling a trombone mouthpiece, the doped one carefully offered the device to the blonde as if it were a holy artifact, saying, "The green hit's yours." The teen shook his head fervently, replying, "I've never smoked before, so I... don't know how to use that..."

"Oh, you're a newbie!" Handing the pipe and a spare lighter to his friend, the fried man ordered, "Show 'im how it's done, Ayu!" Kinoko graciously accepted, instructing, "See, you put your mouth in the top, flick and hold the flame over the weed, and suck in. When you've almost had enough, you lift the bowl up and breathe in the rest of the smoke. Keep it in as long as you can before you start coughing, and then let it all out." With a smug grin, he added, "Allow me to demonstrate," raising the rim to his lips.

He lit up, the water bubbling loudly as he deeply inhaled, and even in the dark Hisoka could see the billowing white smoke rapidly filling the bong. Raising the bowl, Ayumu cleared the chamber, holding it for what seemed like moments before finally exhaling a thick, immense cloud, the smell of marijuana overpowering the room. Fuzen heartily applaused, cheering "Taken like a champ, as always!"

"Thank you, thank you," Kinoko boastfully proclaimed, twirling his hand about in the air as he bowed his torso, then leaning over to place the bong and lighter at Hisoka's feet, who stared at the thing as if it were a rabid animal.

"What's the matter," the red-head asked, a light wave of suspicion eminating from his person.

"Nothing," the empath hurriedly replied, still gawking at the pipe, afraid to even touch the abomination.

"So what's keepin' ya, camper?" Fuzen then challenged, blue eyes gleaming dangerously, "It's not like you're a C.I. or anything, right?"

"_No_," the boy vehemently denied, snatching the lighter and bong into his shaking hands defiantly, apprehension twisting his insides.

"Then take your hit."

Despite being poorly versed in slang, he knew what Fuzen was accusing him of being: a confidential informant. A _snitch_. If they wanted _any_ information about Muraki, he had to prove himself otherwise. He placed the rim over his mouth nervously, fumbling with the fire-stick and, after half a dozen failed attempts, finally flicked the flame alive, holding it over the smouldering weed. A long sigh escaped him as he thought, 'Shit... here goes nothing...'

Sucking in as hard as he could, the teen winced as his lungs and throat began to burn, eyes watering uncontrollably. He quickly raised the large bowl, hardly managing to clear the rest of the smoke as a series of strange choking noises threatened to leave his closed mouth, passing the devices to Tsuzuki before finally releasing the smog.

"Woooo!! He got a good one," Ayumu hollered as he and the dealer clapped vigorously.

"Just don't cough," Fuzen warned as he switched his PS2 on, "it'll burn even more."

Supressing the urge to hack his lungs up was nearly impossible as Hisoka gasped for air, but somehow, he complied.

"You took that pretty well," the raven-haired man complimented, beaming as he sent the boy a look of profound approval.

Already, the pale youth was beginning to feel the effects; everything seemed to have slowed down, his mind in a haze as a tingling sensation crept into his skin. He sank into the couch absently as Led Zeppelin tunes began pouring from the tv speakers, lazily turning his head to face Tsuzuki, who had followed his lead and was currently taking a hit of his own. Glazing verdant gems watched the hypnotic dance of ethereal plumes curling and twisting gracefully within the glass instrument, disappearing before his eyes in one swift, fluid motion as the brunette finished his turn, returning the pipe to its owner. His partner then tilted his head back, eyes closed and mouth open in a state of absolute calm as the smoke continued its seductive routine.

'Oh, Gods...'

It reminded him of _other_ times he'd seen his lover's head thrown back, desire-molten amethyst gems shut tightly, moaning Hisoka's name, slender fingers running through his flaxen hair as he took the man into his mouth---

'Wait...' A thought struck the younger shinigami as the older man leaned forward, blowing out the remaining smoke. 'Why does it seem like he's done this before?!'

"I hate to mooch," Tsuzuki started, scratching the back of his scalp sheepishly as he addressed Fuzen, "but do you think I could have another beer?"

"Helpy selfy," came the generous reply, "I can always call Sakaguchi for more; he works for the company, so I get a lot of free alcohol."

The booze hound's eyes took the shape of hearts, leaping to the fridge and returning with over a dozen cans. He set them down on the floor before him gently, popping one of them open as he reclaimed his spot beside his young partner, who half-grumbled, "Baka."

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Four bowls and a good many beers later (even Hisoka had a few, rendering him drunk as well as stoned), Kinoko and the dealer started to reminisce. "Dude," a very baked Fuzen slowly began, "you remember when you took a red tab and a white one at the same time? That was fuckin' hilarious." "Heeey," came the delayed response, "I thought we agreed not to talk about that..."

The baritone carried on anyway, barely containing his laughter as he continued, "You went out on the balcony and puked over the railing; it splattered all over my landlord's new Mustang convertible! He was so pissed!!"

"Yeah, well what about the time _you_ overdosed on Viagra," Ayumu retorted as snappishly as his altered state would allow. "You had a constant boner for eight hours afterwards, and you never stopped bitching and moaning about how much it hurt!"

They were too caught up in their petty squabble to notice that Hisoka had more pressing issues to confront at the moment... horny Tsuzuki issues, to be exact.

Every time he found himself on the receiving end of Tsuzuki's lust-ridden stare, he blushed and scooted away. However, that approach stopped working when he ran out of couch to scoot on, and even if he couldn't _see_ the scorching violet spheres, he could still _feel_ them wandering perversely over his clothed body, which was almost more torturous than meeting that clouded gaze. To further complicate matters, they were now literally sitting side by side, the contact amplifying the desire he'd made every attempt to disregard.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki whispered in a low voice, causing the boy to shiver, "It's getting late; we should leave soon."

"C-can't you wait until they're done talking, at least?! It'd be rude to interrupt," the empath pointed out.

That was when he felt it, and instantly regretted what he'd said; he wasn't quite sure when his partner's smooth, gentle hand had made it down the back of his pants, only that his ass was being groped one cheek at a time. He also knew that an aroused Tsuzuki was an impatient Tsuzuki, and that his amethyst-eyed lover was certain to make him eat his words.

The lingering buzz throughout his body and his intoxicated state only served to make things worse for him as a slim finger slowly glided over his entrance and to his perineum, long and teasing strokes eliciting a sharp gasp from the teen's now parted lips. It dawned on him that one of the advantages of baggy pants was that his newfound erection was far less noticeable, especially in the dark. He only wished the night could also conceal the groans that begged release from his throat...

Watching his younger lover's eyes glaze over only made Tsuzuki's blood run even hotter, unable to resist sliding his hot tongue up the blonde's neck, then moving along his jawbone. He pulled away to find himself under the scrutiny of a molten emerald glare that screamed, "What the hell are you doing?!" He knew his love was mortified at the thought of Kinoko and Fuzen observing something so personal, despite overwhelming evidence suggesting that they were still completely absorbed in their debate.

"Settle down, 'Soka; if you let yourself get too flustered, they'll notice," he breathed. "It'd be rude to interrupt, remember?"

Hisoka _really_ regretted those words now...

His fingernails dug viciously into the worn fabric of the couch as Tsuzuki commenced in sucking just underneath his jaw, the man's hand still tormenting him. 'Son of a bitch...' It was impossible to keep still at this point, the effort alone leaving him in tremors as his breath came in short, quivering gasps, his willpower finally breaking when Tsuzuki began pushing his thumb in and out of him. The tangy taste of copper filled the empath's mouth as he bit his lower lip to keep from screaming.

Forcing the elder shinigami's limbs away from him, he bolted to his feet, turning his back towards the bickering pair to face his oppressor, who peered up at him with the most innocent face he could muster.

"Something wrong, Hisoka?"

Gripping Tsuzuki's wrist with deadly force, the boy yanked his partner to his feet, growling, "We need to talk, _right now_," before dragging him into a spare bedroom down the hall.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Hisoka pulled the older man's head to his own, hungrily pressing their lips together with a heated moan...

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Both druggies had fallen silent upon witnessing the pair's strange behavior, the dealer instead opting to play "Grand Theft Auto" as the reefer fiend idly watched. "Man, Durjie was acting pretty weird on the phone," the red-head recalled two minutes into his game. "How's that," Kinoko asked half-heartedly; Durjaya was an odd fellow to begin with, so he prepared himself for a regurgitation of previous conversations on the subject.

"Well, when I asked him if he'd seen Doc around, he got all pissed off." Conjuring his best imitation of the smooth, emotionless bass voice, he continued, "'He got what was coming to him,' he says, and then the bastard hung up on me!"

Ayumu immediately sobered upon hearing this, the hairs of his neck standing on edge as those words repeated themselves endlessly in his mind.

'_He got what was coming to him_.'

"Hey, dude," the stoner questioned shakily, changing the subject as quickly as he could, "you got any shrooms on you? I need a good fry..."

Pausing the mindless violence on the screen, his friend replied, "Nah, not on me, but there should be some in the spare room." Slowly standing, he mumbled, "C'mon," motioning for the brown-eyed man to follow as he switched on the hallway light.

If only they'd payed attention to the drawn-out groans and desperate pleas floating down the corridor, which were quickly escalating in volume, they could have prevented the horrifying embarrassment to come. However, they did no such thing, and in turn witnessed something that would forever haunt them as Kinoko charged into the room right behind Fuzen. They came to a dead hault, their eyes tripling in size, as they absorbed the scene before them.

A shirtless Tsuzuki half-sat, half-laid against the wall before them with his navy-blue pants around his knees, back arching with every empassioned noise he made, running his slim but powerful hands through ash blonde locks as Kurosaki's head bobbed up and down ravenously between the man's legs. The boy's pace became even faster, as did his brunette lover's gasping, begging between ragged breaths, "Oh Gods... _please_... Hisoka!!" With a strangled cry, Tsuzuki climaxed, his body thrashing about wildly as his partner swallowed his seed, the teen's small, pink tongue still searching for anything he might have missed. It was only then, in the afterglow of his orgasm, that the amethyst-eyed shinigami noticed that he and Hisoka were not alone, nearly shrieking in surprise as his face flushed further. Noting his lover's sudden reaction, the empath dropped the man's cock from his mouth, whipping his head around to see what had caused this change. Widened forest-green spheres blazed with rage, his own visage adorning a humiliating shade of scarlet as he bellowed,

"GET OUT!!!"

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AN: Don't worry, they'll pick up right where they left off once they get to the hotel; had a last-minute change of plans. The next chapter is where it starts getting dark; you have been warned.

Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed! I appreciate your feedback more than I can express .

Kaouri18 - This was only one of many ways I hope Muraki will die... xD

azna-azure - The title, along with the two opening lines, come from a song by Queen Adreena called "Madraykin." This story came to me while I was listening to that song. Don't worry; in the sense of 'twisted,' we still have a ways to go!

laustic - I'm glad you're enjoying what you've read so far . All mysteries are revealed with time...

Trinity Spark - "Interesting" is one way of putting it... . 

SasatheShy - _Writing_ Muraki's death causes gave me indescribable joy! He _did_ deserve it! .

asian9090 - Ayumu was actually just meant to be a gag character for my last fic (hence why his name means "mushroom vision"), but I liked him a lot and couldn't let him go! Glad you enjoyed

NemoChan320 - I'm thrilled, and quite flattered, that you've enjoyed my work thus far. As others may know, I'm excited to the point of sillyness when I feel like what I'm writing isn't _total_ crap, so thank you for giving me a reason to do the happy dance!


	4. My Silent Undoing

AN: First off, this took way too damn long to write. Memo to self: never save on a floppy disk. I know I said there would be a lemon in here, but I just couldn't get in the mood to write it. Don't hate me!! Ahem, anyway, on with the fic!

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After several minutes of convincing Fuzen that he was _not_ going to be traumatized for life, Ayumu met his fellow shinigami, now fully clothed, outside the apartment door. Nervous smiles and awkward goodbyes were all the group could manage; all but a very sulky Hisoka, who made it quite clear through his sour demeanor that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell away from this place.

Before joining his comrades in their descent down the decrepit staircase, Ayumu posed one final question to his friend.

"So, what _did_ happen to Doc?"

"Beats the hell outta me," the faux red-head shrugged, "As far as I know, Durjie saw him last."

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They paraded drunkenly down the streets for the next half hour, and Hisoka was getting desperate. His stomach was growling as if he hadn't eaten in days, his bladder was on the verge of exploding---

"In th' lan' of twiiiliiight unnnderrr th' moooon, weee daaanth fooor th' idioooots!"

---and his partner and Kinoko were making complete asses of themselves. They had belted out everything from "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" to "Todokanai Ai to Shitteita no ni Osae Kirezuni Aishitsuzuketa" with senses of pitch that made stray animals wail, accompanied by embarrassingly clumsy attempts at dancing. For the morepart, the empath staggered a few feet ahead of the moronic pair, pretending he didn't know them.

Tsuzuki, however, did not take kindly to being ignored, glomping onto the boy and nearly earning both of them a closeup with the sidewalk, slurring, "C'mon Thokaaa, thtop bein' shyyy!" The older man, accompanied by a contagiously giggly Kinoko, then began howling out a new tune,

"Annnta nyaaa chuckle moootta inaaaai!"

"Oo-oo!"

Oh dear God; they were singing Morning Musume. He needed to find a hotel, _now_. Fortunately for the humiliated blonde, a few buildings up the street, on their left, was an enormous white building and a bright illuminated sign which read, "Kagoshima Tokyu Hotel." It looked a bit pricey for their budget, but Tatsumi could shove whatever complaints he'd have later; Hisoka's top priority was getting these idiots out of public view as soon as possible. "Oi, Tsuzuki," he loudly started.

"Niphhhon no miiira- huh?" The tonedeaf brunette paused mid-melody.

"We could stay there," the younger partner suggested, pointing to the nearby hotel.

"Anoou... takai o mirun'da...(Umm... it looks expensive...)"

"But they have good room service," Ayumu was quick to point out.

Before they knew it, Hisoka and the stoner were teleported into the lobby.

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"Baka," the blonde boy hissed, "what the hell were you thinking?! Or were you thinking at _all_?!" Trying to play peacemaker, Kinoko mended, "Aww, come on... doesn't seem like anyone noticed." Seeing no point in further debate, Hisoka relented; he didn't have the energy to argue anyway. Instead, he took a quick glimpse at their surroundings. Cream-colored walls were complimented by a carpet striped in black, light blue, and white, a variety of gentle ceiling fixtures silently boasting the hotel's pristine condition. It wasn't a five-star, but they were definitely in for a second death when Tatsumi saw the bill; he tried not to snicker at the mental image of JuOhCho's notorious secretary banging his head into a wall. The oddest things seemed funny at the moment...

It was decided that the raven-haired man would book their rooms, seeing as Hisoka appeared too young to take seriously and Tsuzuki was too enebriated to present himself properly. As soon as their coworker was out of hearing range, Tsuzuki pondered aloud, "Wonder why he workth in Area 6 if he'th from 'round here..." It _was_ a good question; just why _was_ Kinoko working in the Kansai office if he died in Kyushu? He'd have to ask him one of these days...

"Back," said druggie chirped, thoroughly surprising his peers, twirling a set of keys on his forefinger.

"Th-that was fast," the teen sputtered, to which Ayumu answered, "Name dropping gets you everywhere," and winked, handing one of the keys to the startled empath. "Both rooms are on the eighth floor; let's get some sleep."

As they headed off in the direction of the elevator, earthen brown eyes paralyzed their host's body as they viewed a scene most strange. A graying, clean-cut businessman was being approached by... Gods, this woman was beautiful! Sleak, shining, midnight hair flowed just past her slender waist, complimenting perfect almond skin and a halter-necked crimson evening dress that flattered her every curve, the calves of her shapely legs well-formed due to extensive use of the near-dangerously high-heeled stilettos she wore.

She very quickly placed her full, red lips on those of the startled salaryman, and just as hastily removed them. Feeling the stare of one deceased, she turned her gaze upon Kinoko, smirking darkly, before she fled the lobby into a night that now seemed much colder than it previously had...

He shivered as he darted into the elevator, his dumbfounded companions soon following, realizing that which had most caught him off guard, even frightened him. It wasn't just the woman's actions which had been unusual; when her face had turned into the light to view him, not a single beam had reflected in her ebony glare. Her eyes didn't reflect light.

"Y'okay, Kinoko?"

Snapped back into the present, Ayumu half-smiled and somewhat shakily replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, Tsuzuki-san." After pushing the "8" button, Hisoka asked as the doors slid shut, "Kinoko... if you don't mind my asking, why do you work in Area 6? Didn't you live here?"

An eerie silence fell for the first time that day, finally broken when the Kansai shinigami hesitantly replied, "Not originally. I moved here from Osaka when I was ten." Knowing by his wary tone that he didn't wish to go any further into the subject, Hisoka thought it best to leave it at that. The same couldn't be said of Tsuzuki, who despite not being as intoxicated as before, still wasn't using a full deck and pried, "Did your father move here on business?" This obviously rattled the black-maned man, who stuttered in thick Osaka-ben, "N-no... and I'd r-really rather not... t-talk about it..."

The empath now knew that something was seriously wrong; Kinoko's accent almost _never_ slipped into his daily speech and right now, he was _drawling_. Something about that woman had rattled him more than he was admitting...

The elevator doors glided open and the group exited, wishing each other good night as they entered their adjacent rooms.

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Having ordered and inhaled at least ¥17,000 worth in room service, the teen having gone with a healthy helping of tonkotsu while his partner had ingested various forms of sugar and a bottle of sake, the two were now lying lethargically in bed, watching some horror flick that neither of them were particularly interested in. Tsuzuki out of sheer boredom (after all, the movie had a plot), and Hisoka because the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed that night were overpowering those of the weed. His body was readily recalling the fact that they'd been caught in the act before he'd been able to find release.

Absently running his fingers over the elder man's toned abdomen, the boy mumbled into his lover's neck, "Are you even _watching_ this movie, Asato?" Yawning, the brunette tiredly replied, "Maa, it's so boooring... let's see if something else is on."

"Why not just turn it off?"

"'Cause I don't wanna go to sleep yet."

Blazing emerald gems peered into violet orbs, filled with raw need as their host guided his fingers underneath his lover's shirt, traveling upwards at their leisure to brush a nipple. "Who says we'd have to go to sleep?"

Tsuzuki gasped, arching into the touch as he fumbled for the remote, quickly turning the television off, instead opting for something far more interesting.

Hisoka's knees rested beside the taller shinigami's waist as he moved to top him, locking his lips in a fervent kiss, inching the blue shirt up as his delicate hands glided up the man's torso. Tsuzuki was fast to aid him in removing the cloth, moaning as he squirmed under his partner's wandering touches. "Hi...soka..."

Rotating their positions to place himself on top, the brunette removed the teen's own black tee, promptly attacking his lover's neck with heated kisses and nips on the perfect skin, rolling his body against the smaller one beneath him. A desperate groan rumbled out of the boy's throat, followed by a symphony of gasps and whimpers as Tsuzuki's mouth latched onto a hardened nipple.

Letting one hand drift between them and into the boy's black pants, his fingers lightly stroked an already weeping erection as he teased in a deep purr, "Someone's a little eager, ne?" Hisoka rolled the older man onto his back, responding to his challenge in a most unexpected manner, pinning his wrists just above his brown locks. "I'll show you _eager_, Asato." A delicious shiver shot through Tsuzuki's spine at the aggressive display, a pleading noise fleeing his lips as the younger man growled, "_I'm_ on top tonight."

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Kinoko awoke in violent, convulsive tremors, cold sweat only worsening his condition as every involuntary movement reacquainted his exposed torso to the chilled air of his room. Clapping one hand over his mouth, he summoned all the bodily control he could to fling the covers of his bed away and shakily run into the bathroom. He barely made it in time before the contents of his stomach erupted angrily from his mouth, the water in the toilet splashing back up at him from the force of the expulsion. The drops that landed on his face only made his stomach churn more furiously, heightening the urge to vomit, so he held tightly to the sides of the bowl and surrendered his body to the sickness.

Fifteen minutes of non-stop vomiting and dry-heaving passed before he finally felt he could move again. Weakly, he stood and stumbled back to the bed, grappling onto everything from the sink to the nightstand to keep from toppling over along the way. Collapsing atop the mattress, he huddled underneath the blankets in an effort to regain some of his lost body heat, trying to banish the nightmare from his thoughts. His visions had started out well enough; odd, if not a bit unnerving, but strangely appealing. He was back in his apartment in Meifu, and for some reason, Hiroshi was there, giving him his usual lecture about not having to wear a mask around his best friend. No different from many of their previous conversations... at least, until the hippie had put his arms around him in a warm embrace, gently pleading, "Don't hide from me, Ayu... I love you." He'd kissed him then, and the dream had become progressively weirder; not that his body had minded, no, quite the contrary, which thoroughly shocked Kinoko. Sure, he'd never bothered with relationships enough in life to know his sexual orientation, but he'd never thought he was _gay_... However, he currently found himself wanting to replay that dream in his mind, especially if it dimmed the memory of its successor, a night terror that had plagued him in mind and body.

A horror that, for three years, had robbed him of sleep, forcing him to relive the night he'd lost everything...

'The night I lost Mika...'

Ayumu and Mika Kinoko were born within moments of each other, and from that day, always shared a special bond. Aside from gender, their appearances were absolutely identical, and one always seemed to know what the other was thinking, doing, or feeling, whether together or apart. They'd also displayed some... unusual talents at a very early age. As toddlers, whenever something they wanted was placed beyond their grasp, they would reach out for it, straining their tiny muscles with the effort, and focus intently upon it. Slowly, it would begin to move; without fail, they always managed to get ahold of whatever that something happened to be. The twins also created the perfect mediumistic force; alone, Mika would see people their parents could not, and her brother would hear their disembodied voices, but when together, they saw and heard as one being.

The siblings were inseparable, despite the childish bickering that often took place between them. Neither of them sorrowed, angered, or feared for long, because the other was always there to make things right again. At least, until the night someone had broken into their family's house.

Ten-year-old Ayumu had woken to a booming crash coming from downstairs, as if the front door had been kicked open. Too frightened to move, he'd lain in his bed simply listening as he heard his parents' shrill, panicked voices pleading, begging--

_POP POP POP_

Mama screamed, two more loud popping sounds rang out, and all was silent.

After several minutes had passed, the black-haired boy had risen, soundlessly creeping down the oak staircase, to find his mother and father lying face-up in pools of their own blood. Their bodies illuminated by the dim light down the hallway in the dining room, he'd seen their horror-stricken faces; Papa's now glassy, lifeless eyes wide open, a bullet in his forehead and two in his chest. Just beyond him, Mama's mouth was frozen in an eternal scream, only blood, shattered bones, and mangled tissue where her left eye should have been, the middle of her blue silk nightgown stained deep crimson from the shot she'd received to her stomach.

Doing the best his tremor-ridden form could to stifle his sobs, tears flowing uncontrollably down his young face, he'd been paralyzed when he found a pair of startled, dark eyes upon him.

As the tall, stocky man slowly began walking towards him, he'd bolted across the hallway and through the den, nearly tumbling down the stone stairway into the basement, hiding behind the gas furnace. Heavy footsteps thundered towards him, and in that critical moment, his gift had taken over. A piece of pipe from the furnace suddenly went flying towards the intruder, instantly knocking him unconscious. Taking his chance, Ayumu immediately fled upstairs to wake his sister. If only he'd known that as the gas hissed its way through the basement, their home had become a ticking time bomb.

"Mika! _Mika_!!" He shook her roughly as his voice cracked, her eyes flying open at the sound of her brother's distress. "What? What's wrong, Ayu," she'd asked, her eyes now mirroring her twin's terrified gaze. "I don't have time to explain, sis, but we need to get outta here!!" As soon as her small feet touched the ground, he grasped her hand and hurriedly lead her down the stairs.

They'd just made it through what was once the front door when Mika's eyes turned back, the sight greeting her forcing out a pained, horrified wail. "Mama," she screamed, running back indoors to kneel at her dead mother's side. Ayumu's gut had wrenched awfully at the sight, and he'd called out to his sibling, "Mika, we have to leave _now_!! It's not safe here!!"

In the bottom level of the house, the killer regained consciousness, the immense pain in his head radiating throughout his body, an ailment he thought could be eased with a cigarette.

"But," Mika choked between sobs, "but Mama..."

"It's too--"

A hellish explosion hurtled Ayumu into the street as their house quickly started to blaze, the area directly above the basement having already caught fire. Stunned only momentarily, he pushed his fresh scrapes and cuts into the back of his mind, charging into the inferno, shouting his sister's name.

He didn't have to go far before he found her; her legs pinned underneath a huge slab of what was once the den wall topped with countless other forms of debris, struggling frantically to escape. "Nii-san!! Nii-san, help me!!" She only addressed him as 'older brother' when frightened, and he could feel every ounce of her fear when he looked into her earthen eyes... his eyes. Trying to keep a level head, Ayumu ordered with as much composure as his shaking voice could manage, "I know you're scared, but you have to calm down! We won't get anywhere if we stay like this!" Twining his fingers with those of her outstretched hand, he said, "We can get this off of you if we both focus hard enough. I need your help..." Eyes locked, they put every ounce of energy they had into removing the obstacle crushing her already broken legs. Slowly, the fragment of the wall began to rise, higher, almost high enough...

He felt someone grab him from behind, a deep voice distorted by a mask saying, "Don't worry, son, we're here to help." He hadn't even noticed the sirens, but now heard them blaring outside as he was being dragged away, the wall fragment again slamming onto Mika's legs with an agonized shriek and a sickening crunch from beneath. "Let go," he yelled furiously, squirming and kicking, "let go of me, dammit!! She needs me!! My sister's still in there, you bastard!! LET GO!!!" Finally freeing himself, he sped back towards their house, only to hault dead in his tracks just in front of the entrance. The fire had spread. Her blistering hand still stretched towards him, her hair had been dissolved by the flames, her bare scalp and face peeling away in the intense heat. The stench of burning flesh reached his nose, turning his stomach as he stared in unmatched horror, watched her scream and howl and writhe in agony as her skin sizzled and crackled. She looked him straight in the eyes, pleading as she cried.

He ran.

Yes, he ran away from his best friend, his partner in mischief, his comforter, and the only person in the world he thought he'd die for. He'd been horrified at the sight of her burning alive, as any child would have been. But she was his twin! How could he have been afraid of his own sister, his very reflection, fleeing her presence as if some grotesque beast, leaving her to die? How could he live with that?

Frankly, he couldn't.

He'd left Osaka, eventually drifting his way to Kagoshima, living off of waste he found in garbage bins until he found a job and scraped up enough money to get an apartment. He made the occasional acquaintance here and there, but the only true friend he'd had after the fire, one he'd known since kindergarten, was Hiroshi, who visited every other day. Every time, he'd reason, "I just wanna make sure you're okay," and every time, Ayumu would lie and tell him, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Hiroshi, however, had of course known differently. Like most kids, they'd played with matches when they were younger. Nowadays, his friend wouldn't do as much as _touch_ a match, jumping back five feet every time someone flicked a lighter. The dark circles under Ayu's eyes told him just how little he slept; he never saw him doze for more than an hour or two anymore, no matter the time of day. There had also been his weight to consider... his eyes had begun sinking into his skull, his countenance sickly and skinny, joints jutting out far more than they'd used to...

At first glance, anyone who'd viewed the furnishings in Ayumu's apartment thought he was doing well for himself. A sofa sat a few feet away from a recliner, both facing the latest high-definition television set, a state-of-the-art flat-screen computer with a broadband internet connection resting on a metal desk nearby. The table and chairs in the dining room were nothing terribly fancy, but certainly not cheap either, the same being said of the tableware. In his bedroom was a smaller television set with a number of video game systems, all set in front of a king-sized waterbed.

Hiroshi had been awestricken when he'd discovered _how_ he had the money for such luxuries: Ayumu spent, quite literally, almost nothing on food.

Kinoko bitterly remembered when a bee had stung him on his shoulderblade, and the hippie had insisted on putting tobacco on the wound (which, by the way, really _does_ work), which had involved him taking his shirt off. The moment his rail-thin arms and protruding ribs were exposed, his long-time friend had nearly broken down into tears. Hiroshi had known that the emaciated boy before him couldn't weigh more than eighty pounds, despite being nearly thirteen years old and standing at 5'8".

"When's the last time you ate anything," he'd asked, his voice almost too slight to be heard. Trying to make light of the subject, Ayu had responded half-jokingly,

"There's no point in eating all the time when it all comes back up later."

"Just answer the damn question," Hiroshi had snapped, which was most uncharacteristic for him. His voice hushed with shame, the black-haired boy answered,

"...last Thursday."

"You haven't eaten in over a week?!"

"What's the point if I can't keep it down?!" Ayumu had fallen to his knees, trembling, trying to swallow his tears back as he revealed, "I relive that night every time I fall asleep... when I wake up, I can still smell it... smell her burning..." Hiroshi's eyes had overflowed with sadness, mingled with something Ayu had never been able to identify, and took a place on the floor beside his long-time friend, holding him. "It's okay," he'd whispered, "just let it all out. I'm not leaving any time soon." They'd stayed like that for the next hour and a half, Kinoko's too-thin frame wracking in sobs as if he would shatter, Hiroshi there to soothe him and make sure he didn't.

It was then that the hazel-eyed youth had brought up the fact that he'd started smoking pot; that he didn't dream when he went to bed stoned. Ayumu had decided he'd give it a try, so they'd held an all-night smoke-a-thon for his thirteenth birthday. When he'd retired to his bed at ten o'clock the next morning, he'd crashed for the next fifteen hours, and slumbered without any visions. He'd begun smoking every night; he slept well, and within a few months had even reached a healthy weight, becoming lean as opposed to skinny, gaining six more inches in height before he stopped growing.

'And the rest is history,' he thought, ending his stream of recollection. The last memory to float through his mind was the mahogany-haired man's morose face when he and his fellow shinigami had left In'you, sorrow and even regret deeply engrained upon his normally mellow and complacent features. The mental image alone pulled at his heart terribly, now feeling his own sense of regret at not being more open with him. 'He _was_ always there when I needed him, wasn't he? Whether I wanted him to be or not...' Ayumu was consumed by an aching emptiness by the lack of the man's presence, realizing just how sorely he missed him.

"Meh, I don't need to worry about that right now," the brown-eyed man mumbled, dismissing his melancholy and reaching into the nightstand's drawer to retrieve his mp3 player; music _always_ helped. Setting the earpieces in place, he thumbed the "on" button, bringing it to life as he scrolled through the artist list. Finally deciding on Nirvana, he began lightly bobbing his head to the beat as the song "Lithium" filled his range of sound, even quietly singing along once it reached the chorus. The nightmare at last starting to fade throughout the second verse, his voice became only slightly louder as he chanted,

"I like it, I'm not gonna crack

I miss you, I'm not gonna crack

I love you, I'm not gonna crack

I killed you, I'm no-- huh?"

'It's never screwed up like this before,' he thought as the device repeated the line, "-I killed you - I killed you-"

Pressing the pause button, he attempted to go back to the artist list only to find that the chilling message continued to play.

He tried again, twice, three times, to no avail, and yanked the pieces out of his ears, violently hurling the mp3 player to the floor. His tremors returned full force as the volume increased to an impossible level, shrieking,

"I KILLED YOU I KILLED YOU I KILLED YOU"

The floorboards beneath the carpet groaned under an oppressive weight that couldn't be seen, only felt, as every shadow in the room gathered into the corner nearest his bed. "Nii-san..." A whining wheeze was all it really was, barely noticeable above the shadows' constant, countless whispers of the word. Bolting from the bed, he sped towards the door, struggling in vain to flip on the main light switch. "What the hell," raw fear overpowering his shrill voice, "why the fuck won't it _move??_"

"Why are you scared of me, nii-san," the voice rattled from behind him, "You still love me... don't you?"

He was shoved against the wall before his hand even touched the doorknob, bony fingers with fragments of charred flesh still clinging to them clenching his throat as he was brought face to face with his assailant, that putrid smell overtaking his nostrils once again. Something between a rasp and a shriek escaped scorched windpipes as it raged, "Why did you leave me??"

'God, where are her eyes, I can't see her eyes--'

The demon continued to howl hoarsely as it bashed his head ruthlessly against the wall, tightening its chokehold, "_Why did you let me die?? How could you just watch me burn like that??'_

'This isn't happening, this isn't Mika, it can't be--'

He began to succumb to the pain, his vision fading just as the door swung open, a wave of light dispersing the darkness of the room. "Are you all right," he barely heard

Tsuzuki ask as he dropped to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest as he silently sobbed, his trembling beyond all hope of control. Somehow, through the ringing in his ears, he heard Kurt Kobain's ragged voice chanting, "I'm not gonna crack..."

Both Tsuzuki and his partner stared, dumbstruck and clueless as to what to say or do to help him.

_My wasp in a jar_

AN: Phew! Okay, there's the first (but certainly not the worst) of the mind-fuckage. I know this wasn't as good as it could have been, but feedback will help me improve!


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